


a·poth·e·o·sis

by Mersayde



Series: My Darlings [7]
Category: Growing A Sun
Genre: Drown in Your Colors AU, Established Relationship, M/M, Pining, cheesy fluff, drizzlets of angst, figuring out tough emotions, gays at dawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 23:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersayde/pseuds/Mersayde
Summary: morning cheers to the suckers who can appreciate the forgottenwritten: 6/5/18





	a·poth·e·o·sis

The streets are peacefully empty, washed in pale blues and soft pinks gifted from the sky. Nature exists in its own realm, free of activity and noise. The morning air is still and crisp, the birds are chirping their own sour notes, the grass is covered in fresh dew. Most of the town isn’t awake yet, the dark tints of windows and lack of bitter human interaction are a dead giveaway. 

Akira and Gabe go for a walk during hours the city is waiting to commence. Akira likes the peace and quiet the early morning brings and Gabe likes the colors created from the sunrise.

Gabe examines how the blues, and pinks, and oranges seem to be dancing around the suns comforting rays. He smiles, letting them caress his skin with gentle warmth and bathe him in morning light. He also takes note of how calm Akira seems to be, which is pretty unusual for someone who outmatches him in the theatrics department. He notices how easy it is to enjoy this, enjoy the absence of existing with Akira by his side.

“Sometimes the sky seems too beautiful for us to be allowed to look at it.” Akira says, breaking the silence that crept up on them like the sun over the horizon. 

Gabe tilts his head and adds, “Hmm, but the sky is always beautiful, people just tend to forget it exists.” 

**_how bitter sweet the universe must feel to be forgotten in its incessant availability_ **

**_____**

They continue to walk down an empty street that’s usually crowded with people, admiring the difference time allows. Gabe’s stomach lets out a small growl and they both stop in their tracks, memories of a shared breakfast flood to the front of their minds. All there was to eat was a batch of rushed pancakes that Akira chef kissed as his ‘mini Frankensteins’. Gabe resigned to a cup of his favorite orange juice after barely finishing one of them.

His stomach growls a little louder this time and Akira gives him a knowing look. “Shut up, if you hadn’t baptized our pancakes in syrup earlier my stomach wouldn’t be trying to talk to me right now.” Gabe grumbles out.

Akira chuckles, shaking his head. “Nope, you’re not blaming this on me. I love maple tree sauce. A fact. I drown my little Frankenstein’s in said beloved maple tree sauce. Another fact, that you are well aware of.” He states confidently, as if fact outweighs logic.

Gabe turns to snap another picture of some far away scene Akira can’t put together in his head and scoffs, “Frankenstein wasn’t the monster, idiot.” 

**_____**

Akira kicks a few rocks as he ambles on, hoping that his mind will stop churning out thoughts at the speed of light. Despite his efforts, he finds himself thinking about Gabe, wonders if he knows how much he means to him, wonders if he can sense how much he’s settled into his heart.

 _Now is as good a time as any._ Akira thinks, but it’s quickly drowned out by crushing doubt. Gabe has been hurt before, so has Akira. Emotions are never easy, love is unfairly complex to understand, relationships are weird and messy— but with Gabe, it all seems worth it. It seems like the ancient gods knew exactly what chords he should strum to have Akira singing along to his silent melodies. 

**_how tantalizing this rush of uncertainty must feel_ **

He wants to tell him that he feels like comfort, and laughs, and sincerity. He wants to tell him that his heart has been screaming what he tries to hide since the beginning; what he tries to drown out under exasperating riffs and throaty roars, alongside his familiar rustic alternative tunes. Since the beginning of _this_. He wants to tell Gabe that he can’t imagine tenderly singing unwritten hymns only his heart knows the beat to, with anyone else but him. Only him and Liliana. He wants to tell Gabe that he’s loved him since he first drunkenly stumbled into his lap, and the many times that purposefully followed. He wants to tell Gabe that he knew he was in love the first time they had sex, when they never even finished because they were both laughing a little too hard at stupid jokes. He wants to let him know that he’s been in love ever since he realized he couldn’t live without seeing Gabe happy, truly happy. He wants to tell him that since then, he’s given Aristophane’s theory a second chance. Suddenly, soulmates being the same entity split in two doesn’t seem like a fantastical retelling of love. It feels solid, it feels real. It aligns oh so smoothly with the way he loves him, with the inexorable intimacy that’s stuck its roots in their chests.

If music is his sun, the spark that keeps him standing. Then Liliana and Gabe are his oceans and trees, the passionate energies that keep his sanity from burning out.

He feels like if he doesn’t tell him _now_ , then the world will continue its song without him. He’s scared that he’ll miss his highest note and land on his loneliest vibrato.

Gabe mentions something about wishing people could love the sky as much as it deserves, Akira barely catches the end of it.

He can’t really focus while there’s a pound of angst pushing to the front of his throat. The taste of pitiful rejections and cruel derelictions are still too familiar on his tongue to say the words he wishes he could; taunting his intentions with bitter confinements and admonishing boundaries.

So instead, Akira swallows it down like all the other feelings that betray him. Instead, he bites back on his tongue to stop his truth from slipping past his teeth. To keep his words from stringing his heart directly to Gabe’s ears. 

Instead, Akira says, “Yeah? You think that’s why sappy fucks like us were created? To appreciate the forgotten, and worship the sky?” And man, is it cheesy and _stupid._

But when Gabe laughs, freely and deeply, Akira thinks it’s good enough. And when Gabe tries—and fails— to stop the tiniest of snorts from escaping his mouth, it causes butterflies to soar from Akira’s unhinged bones. Yeah, this is good enough.

_**how liberating the deconstruction of his flushed skin must feel** _

Gabe finally speaks up again, “You’re such a _dork._ ” He teases, smiling. “What would your fans say once they realize their beautiful, bad ass of a fave is actually a cheesy, cuddly romantic? I can imagine it now: ‘local teenage girls incite a massive riot that almost destroys the city.’” Akira laughs at that. He’s not far from the truth, no matter how dramatically he reinacted it. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” He asks.

“As if you didn’t already know.” Gabe shoots back, looking directly at him.

And that makes Akira nervous. And that undoes something solid in his chest, melts it to goo. The completely earnest look in Gabe’s eyes cause his heart to stop. He can’t stand this, the fluctuation of his charismatic tempos. He can’t stand this, the decompartmentalization of his feelings, of himself. He’s realizing too many things, he loves this man for too many reasons. He can’t. And as soon as Gabe wanders off to capture shots of fresh muses, he scrambles for a cigarette and lighter.

_Inhale_

He thinks he can stop the clamminess from digging roots in his palms.

He thinks he can stop the nervous twitch of his lips.

_Exhale_

He thinks that imagining all of his insecurities flowing out of him, as if they were as light as the ashy gray smoke, will make him feel better.

It doesn’t. 

He watches it travel past his nose and curl around empty particles in the dead morning air. How unfortunate that it doesn’t heal.

“How many times do I have to tell you—not around me? If my lungs collapse because of your nasty smoke habit I’m cockblocking you from the grave!” Gabe shouts, pointing an accusatory finger his way. 

Akira throws his head back in laughter.

He wonders, for a brief moment, if it would be an equivalent exchange considering how many times Gabe’s kisses have cost him more than just his ability to breathe; wonders if the law of Hammurabi is applicable in this zealous consumption of each other’s lungs. An eye for an eye. A lung for a lung. A beating heart for a beating heart.

_**how abstruse the universe must feel when all that life is for you, is consuming someone else**_

“Wait, stay like that.. just—” The sounds of the lense shuttering cuts through the silence. Click. Click. “Amazing. Okay, put it out.” Gabe demands, scrolling through his camera.

“As you wish.” Akira says, and crushes the cigarettes under his shoe. He thinks, for some reason, a reason he most certainly wont admit to knowing, Gabe makes everything feel more alive. 

Akira can wait a little longer. He can convince his heart to stop singing his confessions for a little longer, he can pretend it’s melodic wails are a decibel too low to hear for a little longer. 

This is fine for now.

_**oh, how deliriously euphoric the suppression of love must feel**_

Watching Gabe admire the sun makes him realize that he has, maybe not everything but, _enough_ to lose to drive him mad. What would he become if he disinherits the stars on Gabe’s fingertips and tongue and inner things; if he becomes blind to the foreign maps of light in Gabe’s eyes; if he forgets the subtle curl of his hair, or if he ignores the ironic cruelty of his smiles and— 

_**Oh, how morose the naive extraction of his tell-tale heart must feel.** _

**Author's Note:**

> I love these gay boys. Akira belongs to my good friend Carson on [twitter](https://twitter.com/katanacarson/status/1005134286301868032)! Give them a follow! 
> 
> [Inspo](https://pin.it/i7ncm47wm2xuxs)
> 
>  
> 
> Comments? Questions? Kudos?


End file.
